


An Accident

by whatcolourmyeyes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcolourmyeyes/pseuds/whatcolourmyeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that you should never sleep with someone who has more problems than you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I've been going through my tumblr and uploading my fic, so bear with me :)  
> Feel free to review!

They say that you should never sleep with someone who has more problems than you. Well, ‘They’ say a lot of things. Darcy has never exactly been one to listen to these warnings – how would anyone get any if they actually listened to that sort of advice? At this precise moment, however, she’s beginning to think that she should have. Years’ worth of reminders to ‘be true’ to herself and not give in to societal demands are being quashed down by the bitter taste in her mouth and the sinking feeling in her chest.

This was all an accident, of course. It always seems to be an accident, doesn’t it? Darcy has never been good with equations – that’s Jane’s job – but it’s practically formulaic. Add together five random encounters in the elevator, one spilled coffee, (two soiled shirts), and too many instances of Norse God eye sex to count, and suddenly you find yourself waking up next to Enemy #1.

The self-help books don’t cover this kind of material, and Jane… well, Jane hasn’t exactly been informed about the situation. Darcy tried, of course, when the ‘just once’ somehow turned into a weekly deal, and then again when she found herself secretively holding hands with Mr. God of Mischief, but she wasn’t sure how to break the news.

Tony had guessed (he had made it his job to pair off every member of the Avengers including ‘the green sulky one,’ as he called him), but he never pressed Darcy for details. She was a grown woman, and was allowed to do whatever – or whoever – she wanted. And if it so happened that the Avenger’s unpredictable new ally was suddenly more amiable, even willing to redesign the Stark lab with the snap of his fingers (something Tony appreciated, though the gold and green colour scheme, not so much), then he wasn’t about to complain.

He did make sure that JARVIS was tracking Loki at all times, and he may or may not have threatened to tear good ol’ Reindeer Games limb from limb if he hurt Darcy in any way, but that was protocol.

If Natasha had any idea, she wasn’t letting on, and Darcy couldn’t exactly see herself going to the Black Widow for relationship advice. Not that this was a relationship. They were just using each other. She was a simple intern-turned-assistant who fetched the coffee, and he was an ex-wannabe-villain with a penchant for pranks. Dangerous pranks, she has to remind herself (in case she forgets – she forgets more and more frequently).

Damn him and his beautiful green eyes and those talented long fingers and that filthy mouth that whispers the foulest things in a smooth baritone. Maybe he won’t understand the significance of this all – he is unashamed about what he does in the bedroom, doesn’t stifle the sounds he makes as she clenches around him – but she’s never cared this much until him. She has always tried to stop herself before she messes this up. She’s never cried out like that. Has never moaned his name like a prayer, clinging to him like he is the only thing keeping her grounded.

It had occurred to her already that they were in too deep – somewhere along the line, fucking turned into making love, like a bloody romance novel. And she had liked it. She had enjoyed pretending that she was in a real relationship with him. That she was just another woman and he was just another man.

But he isn’t just any man. Her life might be simple, normal enough for someone involved with S.H.I.E.L.D., but he is the God of Lies. She has made herself vulnerable to the one person who could – and might – use it against her.

She avoids him for a week; she feigns illness and stays home.

He refuses to let her ignore him for any longer than that, and arrives on her doorstep one evening. Darcy tells him to leave, says that she’s still sick, but he can spot a lie a mile away, and she’s never been particularly good at telling them anyway. Her pride tells her to salvage some semblance of dignity and send him off, while her honest side supports the full-disclosure method. Some part of her mind – one of the useless bits that isn’t even making any attempt to advise her in this situation – notices how tired he looks. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and his hair is messier than usual. He stands in the doorway, his eyes searching hers as she desperately tries to come up with a plan.

Her inner monologue is getting her absolutely nowhere, and before she can come to a decision as to how she should act, he acts first. “Darcy,” he whispers. It is tender, possessive, but not in the same way as his rhythm of ‘mine, mine, mine’ as he pushes into her, not like his low murmurs as his arms form a cage around her, keeping her close. His voice cracks on her name, and she knows that this is no lie. His eyes have been wiped of all artifice: he looks more broken, more vulnerable than usual. The tremor in his usually precise tone is as close to an admittance of his own weakness – his own love – as he has ever come.

“Darcy,” he repeats. “I am not accustomed to being patient. But I will wait for you if I must.”

She has so much she still wants to tell him. That any relationship between them can’t possibly work, that she isn’t good at secrets, that she isn’t at all prepared for this. That she loves him.

But only one of those things matters to her right now.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him gently on the lips. 

“I’m not patient either,” she whispers.

And though neither of them says anything more, a barely discernible crease between his eyebrows smoothes itself, and Darcy notices her shoulders releasing tension she hadn’t noticed. And in this moment, it is enough.


End file.
